Worlds Away
by Wayward
Summary: Cybertron - the symbol of the Decepticon cause - is on a collision course with a star. *Heavy* 'Con-bias due to the characters involved, just to warn you...
1. 'Worlds Away' - chapter one

**Worlds Away: Chapter One**

          It was a dark and stormy night, and the Decepticons were out.

          Specifically, the six Decepticon jets.  They screamed through the sky, diving and feinting, nearly crashing into one another.  Sonic booms reverberated through the clouds with the thunder – high-speed chicken.  If one listened carefully, they could hear them shouting dares and insults at each other, though no shots were fired.  The whole aerial dance had no purpose, no direction, and would have severely confused any watching Autobots.

          The Decepticons were _playing_.

          The game was called storm-tag, and it was most unforgiving.  It was one thing to chase around the sky, it was quite another to do it under such terrible conditions; bad visibility, heavy rain throwing off radar, thunder rolling through you, trying to dodge the lightning…  The rules were fairly simple: Don't touch the ground.  If you crashed or were forced to land, you were out.  You could smash into your opponents, or lure them into lightning strikes, or dizzy them with your own sonic wake, or otherwise try to get them to crash.  You weren't allowed to use weapons or special powers, and you weren't allowed to transform.

          The game was open to anyone, but usually only the jets played.  Each had their own advantages; Starscream was the fastest, Skywarp had a perfect sense of direction, Thundercracker could take the noise, Ramjet was built to crash into things, Thrust could change speed in an instant, and Dirge was just plain obstinate.  At this point, they were half an hour into the game, and no one was out yet.

          Starscream's radio chimed, and he answered with impatience: "I'm busy."

          "You're playing storm-tag," Megatron snapped over the connection.  He didn't approve of the game; it was a waste of energy – and of resources when the air force came back for their inevitable repairs.  But it boosted morale and kept Starscream occupied, so he never actively tried to stop it.  "Collect up the force and return to base."

          The Air Commander was in a cheerfully insubordinate mood, and answered in kind: "What's my motivation?"

          Megatron told him the reason.  Starscream called off the game.

* * *

          The mood at Decepticon Headquarters was grim as the jets returned.  Not that they were unprepared; Starscream had called off the game with barely an explanation, and hadn't spoken at all the rest of the way back.  Most of the army was already assembled in the control room when they arrived.  Uncomfortable with the gloomy atmosphere, Skywarp asked, "So, ah, what's going on?"

          "Wait for the others," said Megatron.  "I want everyone here."

          He wasn't kidding.  Soon, all the Decepticons of Earth arrived, including the fringe groups; the Insecticons, the Stunticons, the Combaticons.  Whatever the announcement was, it was big.

          By the time everyone arrived, rumours were flying and the noise level was getting high, but when Megatron gestured for silence, he got it.  He stood at the front of the room, flanked by Starscream and Soundwave and said, "Cybertron is on a collision course with a star."

          Whatever whispers were being exchanged stopped.  Megatron continued, "As most of you know, some years ago we used a vast space-bridge to transport Cybertron to this world, for ease of energy transfer.  The Autobots, in another one of their misguided attempts to stop us, caused a great explosion which knocked Cybertron from its orbit around this world.  Since then, it has been flying aimlessly through space."

          A voice from near the back asked, "How long?"

          "Shockwave has calculated four years before Cybertron crashes into the star the humans call Alpha Centauri A."  It wouldn't, really.  It _would_ pass close enough to the star that Cybertron would melt down into a puddle of somewhat impure iron.

          Another voice piped, "What's the worry?  Plenty of time."

          Megatron couldn't pinpoint the speaker in the crowd, so he glowered at the general assembly.  "Then obviously you haven't thought things through.  Merely changing course would be easy enough; it wouldn't require much to clear the star.  However, that wouldn't solve the problem – Cybertron would still be hurtling through the cosmos."  He scowled again.  "And, no, it _won't_ eventually slow down and stop.  It won't stop until it hits something large enough to take the impact."  Megatron paused.  "Or unless _we_ stop it."

          Several asked, "How?"

          It was a plan that Shockwave had actually begun considering not long after Cybertron was launched, Megatron explained, he just hadn't expected to need to use it so soon.  Planetary jets could be constructed to steer Cybertron into orbit around any star they passed close enough to.  Once a basic flight path was caught, the jets could then be used to fine-tune it.  The initial angle would be a problem – nearly head-on – but enough of a push sideways could loop it into an orbit.  Cybertron would no longer have the danger of careening haphazardly through space.  Solar mirrors could be set up to solve the energy problem.  And from there…

          "Keep in the present, Megatron," murmured Starscream, just loud enough for the first couple rows to hear.  "Pretty speeches aren't going to solve Cybertron's problems."

          Megatron shot a quick glare at his second-in-command.  Starscream was a bright, skilled individual, but his idea of leadership left much to be desired.  His approach would have been: _Here's the problem, here's how I want it solved, let's go._  Starscream didn't understand his audience.  You could tell them _what_ you wanted done, but you had to leave _how_ up to them.  And you had to make them _want_ to solve the problem.  Only the most carefully-scripted plots could be micromanaged, and even then you had to have full buy-in.  Pretty speeches were important.

          And, in a way, so was his Devil's Advocate.  At a planning level, Starscream was an expert at finding holes in schemes because he was looking for them.  On a public level, he could be argued down or knocked around to remind the crew just _who_ was in charge.  And a well-placed bit of sarcasm could always bring things back down to reality.  Starscream may have been difficult, but often there was a true concern behind the words: _Keep in the present.  What practical, physical work needs to be done so that we may do it?_

          The Decepticon High Commander returned his attention to the assembly.  "Shockwave has calculated the best trajectory for Cybertron's new orbit, where on our world the jets would be most effective, and when they should be activated.  He is not, however, an engineer, and doesn't himself know how to design the jets; he only knows what they need to be capable of."

          There was a chuckle from front-row left.  "Finally."  His face was a mask, but somehow Scrapper conveyed a grin.  "A challenge."

          "Indeed."  Megatron proceeded to inform them who would be going to Cybertron: Starscream, Soundwave, Astrotrain, the Constructicons, and the Insecticons.  Soundwave would be in charge of the project.  The rest would remain on Earth: The main army would be collecting the vast energy they would need not only to construct the planetary jets, but to work them; the Stunticons and Combaticons would be on general nuisance duty, keeping the Autobots too busy to stop the energy raids or to notice that a good third of the Decepticons were missing.

          "Erm," said someone apologetically, "Why would the Autobots want to stop us?  They're from Cybertron, too."

          The someone was probably lucky not to have been identified.  "What do the Autobots care about Cybertron?" demanded Megatron.  "What have they done for it?  _We_ are the ones who collect energy for our world, _we_ are the ones who guard it from outside forces, _we_ are the ones who would expand the empire!  _They_ are the ones who blasted Cybertron into space in the first place!  No," Megatron leaned forward slightly, conspiratorially, dropping his voice so the assembly had to strain to hear it: "They would cling to their dying world, too frightened, too weak to do what needs to be done to save it.  And they would try to stop _us_ from our sworn task because their own misguided principles and morality say that the Decepticons are always wrong."

          Megatron stood up to full height again.  "You have your orders.  Prepare yourselves; in three days we begin."

          The crowd filed out, each to their own task, until only Megatron and Starscream were left.  It was just as well; if he hadn't stayed, Megaton would have told him to.  "Well, Starscream?"

          "Knowing how important this project is, I chose to wait before questioning your orders."  Showing considerable forbearance for a change.  Usually if Starscream didn't like something, everyone would hear about it and immediately.  "Why did you put Soundwave in charge of the project?  _I_ am the ranking officer."

          "Because while you have a scientific background, your knowledge is out-of-date."  And because Soundwave was more open to suggestion.  Starscream would decide early how he wanted things done, and he'd yell at everyone until it happened.  Soundwave would let Scrapper and the Constructicons do their job without too much bother, and had no qualms about consulting others if his own knowledge was lacking.  _Pay close attention, Starscream; you may learn something._

          The answer wasn't an easily-refutable one, so Starscream changed his attack.  "Why send me at all, then?  And why Astrotrain and the Insecticons?"

          "For all their failings, the Insecticons know their way around electrical devices," said Megatron.  "They can also create their clone armies – an instant workforce.  Astrotrain can be used to scout in space or to transport people and materials.  And you, because while your scientific knowledge is out-of-date, so, for the most part, is Cybertron."

          Starscream turned away and stewed petulantly for a few minutes before something else occurred to him.  "Megatron," he said carefully, peering over his shoulder, "if this plan succeeds, we would soon have enough power to rebuild and expand the empire.  _You_ can't be everywhere at once, so perhaps a command position in my future wouldn't be an unreasonable assumption?"

          _Grow up and I'll consider it._  "Keep in the present, Starscream."

* * *

          For all their faults, once the Decepticons had a task, they would _focus_ on it, especially when the threat was this big.  One could disagree with Megatron, or doubt the Decepticon cause, or have no real attachment to Cybertron, but never all three.  Something like this, everyone had a reason to work at peak efficiency.  Not to say there weren't dissenters, but these only had problems with the details, and even then they were too busy to cause trouble.

          The obvious example being Starscream.  He thought he should be in charge of the Cybertron half of the project, but Soundwave carefully kept him too occupied for the most part to think about it.  Not that it was mindless busywork; what Starscream did was important.  Generally, he dealt with Shockwave and Dreadmoon ( the Monitor of the Sixth Sector, where they had decided the jets would have maximum effect, ) checking calculations and testing old systems to make sure they wouldn't overload when the jets were finally turned on.

          And Starscream found, to his surprise, that he was enjoying himself.  He was home, he was doing important work for the Decepticon cause, he and Dreadmoon had hit it off pretty well, and, importantly, Megatron was nowhere around.  However, he was only happy when he didn't think about it.  When Starscream _did_ think about it, he got angry.

_How dare Megatron send me here?  I am a warrior, not a scientist!  And I'm being ordered around by someone of lower rank!_  Unfortunately, that was as far as he got; he had strong feelings about the situation, but he never stopped to consider _why_ those feelings.  In a non-war-party, Soundwave _was_ the ranking officer, but Starscream had left acceptance of such things behind a lifetime ago, as well as his patience.  And he left science behind _two_ lifetimes ago.

          Therefore, sending him here was a plot – carefully arranged by Megatron – to annoy him.

          The door to what he had claimed as his lab swished open and Dreadmoon stepped in.  "New data from Astrotrain," he announced.  The triple-changer had been sent ahead to give the Alpha Centauri solar system a once-over.  "The system's got planets – dead, from what he can see – but there's a couple big enough to distort Shockwave's initial gravitational equations."

          Starscream sighed.  "Why didn't Shockwave notice them in the first place and take them into account?"

          "The stellar radiation from Alpha Centauri B messes up Cybertron's long-range sensors."

          "Blast."  Bad enough that the system was a triple-star; the main pair being Alpha Centauri A and B, with Proxima close enough to _really_ make calculations difficult.  The current debate was whether they should orbit the Centauris, Proxima, or chart a trajectory around all three.  "Though the existing planets will give us a good idea of what the conditions are like there," said Starscream.  "I'll go along on Astrotrain's next run."  If nothing else, Starscream was the one with experience in the scientific exploration of unknown worlds.  Not that he liked to think about it.

* * *

          Physically nearby, but mentally worlds apart, were the Constructicons.  They were _thoroughly_ enjoying themselves.  They had a monumental, challenging task with the orders to simply _do_ it.  Nothing as impermanent as a temporary base, nothing as pointless as reworking human buildings to look Cybertronian, nothing as bizarre as whatever Device-Of-Ultimate-Destruction-This-Time-I-Mean-It Megatron decided needed to be built that week; this was big, important, and pretty much entirely up to them.

          They were still in the planning stages, of course.  Given Shockwave's requirements, Scrapper had come up with a few rough ideas, which Hook would then complain about because with all the new information coming in, there was no way to know _exactly_ what was needed.  Scrapper looked up from Hook's latest reworking of his sketches.  "Does the term 'rough draft' mean anything to you?"

          "Of course," sniffed Hook.  "It's still no excuse for sloppiness.  I don't want the planet to melt simply because _someone_ forgot to carry the metaphorical two."

          "So we'll make it adjustable," said Scrapper.  "You know, 'adjustable'?  As different from you?"

          "Stick it in your audio receptor, you ill-built excuse of a garden appliance."

          "Go fall in a sinkhole."  The Constructicons could call each other whatever they wanted, secure in the knowledge that the other didn't mean it.  The group relationship was too open and too unconditional for any real malice.  Certainly they could get mad at one another, but it never lasted; the one causing trouble would know the thoughts of the others, the others would understand where the offender was coming from, and compromises could be reached.  They had to co-operate; they all needed each other too much.  Such was a gestalt rapport.

          A group-mind had other advantages besides emotional support.  When Astrotrain returned from his survey mission, the first thing he noticed was Devastator lounging in the area they had, as individual Constructicons, cleared over the last couple weeks.  The triple-changer shifted to his robot form as he landed, then looked up at the gestalt warrior.  "You guys on break?  What are you, unionized?"

          Devastator looked down.  "Still working."

          Astrotrain shrugged and went to find Soundwave.  As Devastator, the Constructicons were too dumb to keep up a conversation.

          He was half-right – Devastator the robot wasn't articulate or graceful, but the fact that he could function at all was incredible in itself; all the Constructicons had to agree on what to do if Devastator was to move at all.  On the other hand, forming Devastator was the Constructicons preferred way to talk with one another because it bypassed all the usual problems of arranging your thoughts, choosing the right words, and waiting for your turn to speak.  It was the ultimate way to brainstorm.

          _Astrotrain is a geek._

          _He serves his function, as must I._

          Merged, each Constructicon _was_ every other Constructicon and all were Devastator, so the only pronoun used was 'I'.

          _I have my thoughts.  I will return to work on my design._

_          Must I split?_

Devastator considered that, then settled himself more comfortably.  _Perhaps not just yet…_

* * *

          "But I just got back!"

          Astrotrain had tracked down Soundwave to ask what his next task would be.  He found the lieutenant with Dreadmoon and Starscream in the latter's lab.  "You did what you could," Soundwave informed him.  "Starscream can do more."

          _"Starscream?"_ wailed Astrotrain.  "That area's bad enough without _Starscream_ along for the ride!"  Assorted radiation and electromagnetic effects made Astrotrain's systems complain, and the communication windows were few and far between.  Still, he preferred being alone to having Starscream as his only company.

          "We need to do an analysis of the planets themselves," Starscream informed him curtly.  "You wouldn't know how to do that or what to look for."  The idea of being stuck with Astrotrain for any amount of time didn't appeal to _him_, either.

          "I could go instead of Astrotrain.  My vehicle form is also a spacecraft," said Dreadmoon.  He smiled slightly, "And I haven't exactly had a chance to get away from my post for the last two million years.  Someone would have to do my job, but with things the way they are right now, it wouldn't be much work."

          Starscream considered that.  Despite his seemingly youthful enthusiasm, Dreadmoon must have had excellent credentials to gain the post of Sector Monitor.  Also, his company would be vastly preferable to the irascible and rather dull Astrotrain.  And he and Dreadmoon had got along almost immediately, and it had been a long time since Starscream had any real friends…  _It might even be fun,_ he thought, considering.  _A chance to get away from the rest of these idiots, to get to know Dreadmoon better, brush up on my scientific skills.  It'll be like old times… like…_

          _"No!"_

          With some amount of surprise, Starscream found the shout came from himself.  But he also found he couldn't stop.  "No!  I will go with Astrotrain.  Dreadmoon, you will remain at your own post."  With that, Starscream stormed out, leaving the others slightly stunned.

          With a shrug, Astrotrain sighed and followed Starscream.  Dreadmoon shot a hurt look at Soundwave.  Soundwave glared at the door then left, leaving the monitor to deal with his own rejection.

          Astrotrain had wandered off to find the Constructicons to deal with some routine maintenance, so Soundwave was able to catch Starscream alone.  The Seeker glared.  "Do not attempt to override my orders, Soundwave, or I will make you regret it."

          "Is this about Sky…"

          Starscream didn't wait for the question to be finished.  _"Do NOT mention that traitor to me again, ever!"_ yelled Starscream.  "This has nothing to do with him!"  Soundwave waited.  Starscream turned away and growled, "And besides, I wouldn't discuss such things with _you_."

          _I don't think you even think about them yourself.  _Soundwave was a being of much patience, but Starscream was a being who could cause much _im_patience.  "Tell Dreadmoon, then," he snapped before stalking out.  He, personally, had no interest in being Starscream's friend, but didn't want to see the Seeker throw one away because of his own strange neuroses.

* * *

          Once Starscream reported the number and size of the planets around the Centauris ( six planets ranging from slightly larger than Earth to three times the size of Jupiter, circling the two main stars in a fairly tight orbit ), the Constructicons could finish up their plans for the planetary jets and begin building.  Which led to other problems.

"Hey!  Quit eating that!"

          Kickback looked up woefully at Scrapper.  "But I'm hungry."

          Scrapper rescued the piece of sheet metal from the Insecticon's jaws.  "Well, find something else to nibble on… that _isn't_ our building materials," he amended.  Scrapper turned back to what he was working on.

          Thirty seconds later, work was again interrupted as Kickback tore across the site, Scrapper hot on his heels.  The grasshopper Insecticon ducked behind Dreadmoon, who had been talking to Soundwave.  Dreadmoon looked from the angrily buzzing Kickback to the just plain angry Scrapper and asked, "What happened?"

          "He told me to nibble on something that wasn't his building materials," Kickback accused.

          "He _bit_ me!" shouted Scrapper.

          If the general situation weren't so dire and if Soundwave's expression weren't so serious ( though the monitor didn't know him well enough to read his moods yet ), Dreadmoon would have laughed.  As it was, he kept what he hoped was a neutral expression as Soundwave intoned: "Kickback, there was a great deal of debris cleared from the building site.  The Insecticons can have that."

          The Insecticon looked insulted.  _"Leftovers?"_

          "Take it or leave it."

          "Hrnph," said Kickback, who hopped away grumbling.

          "They'll take it," said Scrapper.  "They'd just better stick to it, or we'll start swatting."  With that, he walked back to his work, a few wires trailing from the bite-mark near his heel.

          Dreadmoon finished his interrupted conversation with Soundwave, then asked, "I don't understand; how can the Insecticons be physically hungry?"

          "Unusual repairs," said Soundwave.  When the Decepticon ship had crashed on Earth four million years ago, an escape pod was launched.  It crashed, and only three of the occupants were salvageable.  The repair protocols decided that the most common life-form on the planet was insects, so it reworked the survivors into the Insecticons.

However, the initial damage was so severe that they lost extensive portions of their memories; they had their names, and their skills, and nothing more.  They forgot they were even Decepticons until he, Megatron, and Thundercracker had found them in Bali.  On the other hand, the strange repair job gave them an enviable ability; their bodies could turn pretty much anything into energy, though processed energon was still the best power source.  The drawback was the vast amounts of material they had to consume just to keep functioning.  Hunger was a programmed survival response.

          "Could we work that into ourselves?" asked Dreadmoon when Soundwave had finished.  "Or make a generator on the Insecticon energy-processing design?  It would make an inefficient primary source, but as back-up…"

          "Already considered," said Soundwave.  "Insecticons won't let us dissect them to learn the process."

          He _might_ have been joking.  Dreadmoon decided he didn't want to know.

* * *

          Kickback found the other Insecticons in their workshop and explained what happened, finishing with, "I don't see why we put up with these others.  This project doesn't even matter to us!  Let's return to Earth and get back to acreage-razing."  Bombshell nodded assent.

          "You don't understand, stand," rasped Shrapnel.  "We still need Cybertron.  Think about it; the Decepticons hate us, hate us.  They find us useful sometimes, but they'll happily destroy us without a second thought, and we are outnumbered, numbered."

          "We have the clone army…" started Bombshell.

          The beetle waved a hand dismissively.  "Pfah, pfah.  Temp work, easily destroyed.  If Cybertron lives – and if Megatron is to be believed – we will be able to create new Insecticons, rather than just mindless drones, drones.  We will be a force to be reckoned with!"

          "_If_ Megatron is to be believed," said Bombshell.

          "_If_ Megatron doesn't try to stop us," said Kickback.

          "Our time will come, come…"

* * *

          Dreadmoon found he had little to do besides fiddle with the communicator and scanners, trying to get them to pierce the electromagnetic interference of the stars.  When the radiation cleared enough for messaging, he would receive Starscream's progress reports; nothing more, there was no time.  He didn't know what he would say if there _was_ time, he was still hurt from Starscream's rejection.

          Everyone else was fairly closed-mouthed about the Seeker.  The most information he got was from a Constructicon, and even then, that was just an offhand, "Starscream?  He's just loopy.  You get used to him."  Soundwave had merely intoned, "Ask him yourself," and gone about ignoring any further questions on the topic.  It was perfectly obvious that the others weren't going to be helpful.

          So Dreadmoon tried to do things the sneaky way.  He was a Sector Monitor, after all.  He had access to all but the most highly classified of information…

          As it turned out, Starscream _was_ highly classified information.

          The monitor sat back in his chair, steepling his fingers under his nose.  All right, given Starscream's rank, he could grant the classified computer files.  What _didn't_ make sense was, given Starscream's rank, why wasn't he mentioned _anywhere_?  In the historical records, Megatron figured prominently and a few of the others in the army got numerous mentions ( Shockwave and Soundwave for example, and even himself a few times ), but not Starscream.

          It was simply impossible that the second-in-command of the entire Decepticon Empire would be forgotten by the history books.  Which meant someone had carefully gone through and removed the references.  Which didn't make sense; usually you were wiped from the records if you died and the new regime didn't like you.  But Starscream was very much alive.

          Some hours later, he wasn't so sure about that.

          Reports could only be issued at those random intervals when the stellar radiation cleared enough for communication, so the other Decepticons weren't too interested when Starscream missed one.  When he missed two, Soundwave decided that trouble was entirely possible, especially since something must have happened to both Starscream and Astrotrain to knock out both their communicators.

* * *

          "As… Astrotrain?.."

          The only response was an unhappy groan.  It could have been worse; at least Astrotrain was still functional.  Starscream staggered to his feet to take stock of the situation.  They had done the general mapping and radiation counts days ago, and Starscream had decided that despite the company, he wanted a closer look at the planets themselves.  On the plus-side, they were lifeless.  On the minus-side, they were worthless; no way to squeeze energy from them, and the radiation levels too high to allow for safe access.  Of course, with the proper shielding, they might be mined for raw materials…

          On the fourth planet ( twice Earth's size, one-and-a-half times the gravity, but much too hot and possessed of a poisonous atmosphere… at least to those who breathed oxygen ), a sudden dust-storm caught Astrotrain and sent him out of control…

          … Which brought Starscream to where he was now; still inside Astrotrain, who seemed to be on a twenty-degree port slant.  Checking himself for damage, Starscream realized with some relief that he only had a few minor dents.  His internal chronometer informed him that this was because he'd spent over four hours unconscious while his automatic repair system attended to his injuries.  Astrotrain was another matter entirely.  The triple-changer looked fairly intact from the inside, but scanners showed that the rest of him wasn't.  The crash had torn his hull in several places and ruptured one of his fuel lines.

          Starscream dealt with the latter first, and was glad he could fix it from the inside.  Once the fuel line was patched ( not the best job, but pretty good for what little Starscream had to work with ) and his life stopped leaking away, Astrotrain recovered slightly.  Unfortunately, his first act was to attempt to transform, an endeavour that Starscream foiled by giving him a good kick and yelling at him not to.

          The triple-changer's form settled back into shuttle-mode.  "What's your problem?"

          "If you transform, I'll get tossed outside," said Starscream angrily.  "The radiation would kill me; I don't have your shielding."

          "Big loss," yawned Astrotrain.  "Can I start making demands now, holding your life in my hands as I do?"

          Starscream managed his sweetest, most insincere smile, knowing that whatever sensors Astrotrain was using to watch him could pick up on it.  "Your power level is dangerously low.  If I don't repair you, you'll be trapped on this dustball until you de-energize."

          "Blackmailer."

          "Don't think I've forgotten the last time you tried to kill me," Starscream informed him, removing another panel to inspect the damages.  On one hand, if he let Astrotrain die, Starscream could probably wait several days in his shielded hull, hoping to be picked up before his own energy ran out.  On the other, the chances of being found before then were too slim for his liking.  To make matters worse, Starscream found the first option wasn't feasible anyway; Astrotrain's shielding was damaged enough in places that the stellar radiation was already leaking in.  Not dangerous at the moment, but prolonged exposure would fry his circuits.  Astrotrain's too, come to think of it.

          So he had to get Astrotrain moving again, and quickly.  A few more checks told him that it wasn't actual damage keeping the shuttle down, it was merely lack of power.  Starscream considered his options, and found them lacking.  There was no way to harness the radiation, no way to rig up a solar panel, and nothing on the planet that could be converted into energy even if he _could_ go outside and get it.  What extra fuel they carried was lost in the initial leak.

          Then Starscream realised, there _was_ one last power source.  It was risky, it might not even be enough, and he was personally going to hate it for two very good reasons.  The first reason was one that anyone could understand, the second one would make sense only to him.

          It couldn't be put off; every second lowered their chances for survival that much more.  Repairing the shuttle's communicator, Starscream said, "Astrotrain, I'm going to give my energy to you.  Use that and set a course directly for Cybertron.  Once you're out of range of the stellar radiation, radio Cybertron for a pick-up."

          "You're a trusting one."

          "I don't hate you quite enough to sacrifice myself to destroy you," snapped Starscream, pulling out one of Astrotrain's fuel lines.  "Don't make me change my mind."

          Astrotrain wisely shut up.  Starscream gathered his own reserves within himself, and poured his own power into an empty energon cube.  He stuck the fuel line into it quickly.

          "Just remember who saved your life," hissed Starscream, and passed out.

* * *

          "I think he's coming out of it."

          "Pity."

          "Starscream?"

          "Sky… Skyfire?.."

          Of the four voices, only the third held concern.  The fourth was his own.  Starscream's memory was hazy – he was exploring a new planet and there was a storm and he lost Skyfire and he crashed…  No, wait, that's not how it happened…

          A hand gripped his shoulder.  "Starscream, it's me – Dreadmoon.  And a couple of the Constructicons.  You're going to be fine."

          _"Unfortunately."  _Snigger, snigger, snigger.__

          Dreadmoon.  Not Skyfire.  Not Earth.  Cybertron.  Memory cleared as Starscream's consciousness uncoiled and filled his form.  "If that stupid Astrotrain is still functional, tell him he owes me big."

          "Funny.  He said the same about you," said Scavenger.

          _Right.  I owe him for not dumping me out while I was helpless, I'm sure,_ thought Starscream irately.  In his own mind, the Seeker thought he was owed double; one for giving his energy to Astrotrain, two because doing so made him slip into stasis-mode.  He _hated_ stasis-mode.

          Hook was talking: "… clean out the sand, _properly_ repair his fuel lines, and fix his shielding and hull, Astrotrain should be fine.  I wouldn't send him orbital for a couple weeks, though."

          "Hm?  Oh, yes.  Fine," said Starscream.  "I managed to collect most of the immediately important information on the main Centauri system.  Proxima's sub-system I haven't mapped to my satisfaction yet."

          "There's still information missing?.."

          "Hook, don't start," pleaded Scavenger, tugging on his arm.  "Scrapper's gonna short your vocaliser if you change his designs again."

          "Excuse _me_ for striving for accuracy."  Bickering, the Constructicons left.

          Starscream sat up, testing his joints.  The Constructicons may not have liked him, but they still performed their jobs admirably.  Dreadmoon said, "Soundwave and I were looking for you when he detected Astrotrain's signal.  I had to tow you two back; Astrotrain's too big to fit in me when he's in shuttle-mode, and he didn't have the energy to transform.  _And_ we had to clean the radiation out of both of you before we could even begin repairs."

          "Yes.  Alpha Centauri is rich in energy, but the radiation from Centauri B is fatal.  Megatron's plan was wrong, again," said Starscream without proper regret.  "However, the space around Proxima should be clear enough for our purposes."

          "But it still needs to be checked.  And since Astrotrain will be out of commission for the next couple of weeks…"

          "I already said 'no'," Starscream reminded him.  _Why can't this fool understand that I'm doing this for his own good?_

          Dreadmoon looked hurt and turned away.  A few minutes passed and he asked, "Who is Skyfire?"

          The monitor didn't expect the amount of venom he received: "Soundwave put you up to this, didn't he?"

          "N-no."  Dreadmoon turned back and regretted it; the look Starscream was giving him could have melted sheet metal.  "No, you asked for him… her… it when you first regained consciousness."

          "He is no one important.  And never, _never_ mention him again," snarled Starscream.  "Great Cybertron, I _hate_ stasis."  For whatever reason, unless there were some serious extenuating circumstances, stasis didn't affect Starscream.  Where another would just have no memory between threatening Astrotrain and being chuckled at by Constructicons, Starscream's mind didn't sleep.  He merely curled into himself, mind still aware, but lacking senses.  He could think, but he had no outside perceptions to give his thoughts context.  Apparently he had retreated into the memory of a similar accident, long ago…

          "Pardon?"

          "Nothing.  I'm fine."

          Dreadmoon finally left, which was what Starscream had wanted, sort of.  He _liked_ Dreadmoon, which was precisely why he had to push him away.  He couldn't risk it, not again.  Starscream had two great friends in the course of his long life; the first he lost, the second lost him.  Both betrayed him.  And each time he had to build himself up from his own wreckage, stronger, harder to hurt…

          He liked Dreadmoon, but he couldn't take another betrayal.  There wasn't anywhere to go this time.

          _To be continued…_


	2. 'Worlds Away' - chapter two

**Worlds Away: Chapter Two**

          "This is _ridiculous_!  It'll never work!"

          Soundwave waited for Starscream to stop yelling before asking him what he was yelling about.  The Seeker had stormed out of the room he had claimed as his lab, waving a rolled-up piece of paper.  Soundwave just happened to be in the control room.  "What now?"

          In answer, Starscream stomped over and unfurled the paper, laying it out on the table, and gestured angrily at it, as if it were the source of all his problems.  On the paper was a small schematic diagram of the Centauri system.  The rest was covered with complex calculations.  "Look at this!  Megatron is an idiot if he thinks we can set up a stable orbit in a triple-star system!"

          For the last few years, Cybertron had been hurtling aimlessly through space.  If unstopped, it would pass close enough to Alpha Centauri A to melt.  Currently, some of the Decepticons ( Starscream, Soundwave, Astrotrain, the Constructicons, and the Insecticons ) were on Cybertron, working on creating planetary jets to steer their doomed world.  Ideally, they would steer it into a stable orbit.

          "There are planets," Soundwave reminded him.  "You charted them yourself."

          Starscream made an exasperated noise and jammed a finger at a tangle of numbers.  "There _are_ planets, but have you any idea of the delicacy of the balance?..  Oh, come on," he said, collecting up his map and gesturing at Soundwave to follow him back into the lab.

          He called up a computer model of the triple-system.  "Look, six planets orbit Alpha Centauri A and B, and four circle Proxima."  After Astrotrain's repairs, he and Starscream went back out to finish their mapping.  Starscream tapped at the keyboard while explaining, "Each and every single one of those influences the others.  Move one, and the whole set-up falls apart.  Add one and the results are the same."  The screen model showed a mildly spectacular catastrophe as planets spun out of the system or crashed into stars and each other.

          Soundwave was somewhat curious about how long Starscream had spent playing with the graphics.  Unfortunately, the model looked accurate.  "Could Cybertron replace an existing planet?"

          "You think I haven't considered that?" asked Starscream, sounding offended.  "None are close to the right mass, and besides, the act of the switch would throw off the balance anyway.  I've tried everything!  Even if we continue to use the planetary jets to hold orbit, we'll still be dodging planets and flares until the system clears out.  And it's a stupid idea anyway because the jets pull so much power.  Either they'd drain the planet or blow out."

          "You have an alternative?"  Inasmuch as Soundwave could sound disbelieving, he did.

          Starscream ignored the tone.  "Don't I always?  Option one is to orbit the triple-star at a great enough distance as to not upset the system's gravitational balance.  However, Cybertron would be so far out that the power pulled from the planned solar stations would be negligible."

          The Seeker called up another screen, this one of a wider star-map.  "Or we could give up on Alpha Centauri entirely.  We could use the planetary jets to change direction and aim for this one – the humans call it Barnard's Star.  It's about four light-years from where we are now, but on the plus side it's a single star and the long-range sensors haven't picked up on any dangerous radiation.  It's not as powerful a star as Alpha Centauri A, but it should be sufficient for our purposes."

          As a general rule, Soundwave didn't like it when Starscream was right.  It tended to mean that someone else was wrong, _and_ Starscream would rub your nose in it.  So it was with great reluctance that Soundwave was forced to admit that the Seeker was correct.  He added a, "For once," for good measure, but it didn't stop the smug-rays one bit.  However…  "Megatron must be informed."

          "_You_ inform him," said Starscream.  "He never listens to me.  Just remember to tell him just whose brilliant idea it was _after_ he's agreed to it."

* * *

          As it turned out, Soundwave refused so Starscream reported his ideas himself.  As expected, Megatron didn't like them.  "You've looked over the figures," said Starscream.  "Certainly even _you_ can see that Alpha Centauri is a complete write-off."  General annoyance plus distance made Starscream just that much more insubordinate; the worst Megatron could do would be to cut the connection.  Well, unless he got so angry that he took the space-bridge up to Cybertron to come whack him…

          Fortunately for Starscream's purposes, the objections seemed to be of a general principles flavour rather than anything specific.  "How long will it take to reach Barnard's Star?"

          "At our current speed, about nine years," said Starscream.  "Of course, we can use the jets to increase our speed somewhat, cut the time to maybe seven years."

          _Seven years._  Transformers as a species were patient; anything with a lifespan measured in geological eras tended to be.  However, they still thought quickly, which was good or bad, depending on where you were standing.  Specifically, you didn't want your enemies thinking faster than you.  "I don't like these delays, Starscream.  The Autobots have realised that you and the others are missing and know we're up to something."

          "Took them long enough.  We've been here for three months," Starscream chuckled.  The planetary jets were nearly complete.  "Besides, even if the Alpha Centauri plan was feasible, it would be two years before we reached it.  They'd try to stop us anyway."

          "This gives them more time.  There was an attack on the space-bridge two hours ago," Megatron informed him grimly.  "I've stepped-up security, as has Shockwave.  Eventually they're going to break through, or just use one of their spacecraft to get to Cybertron."

          Starscream puffed himself up.  "Then we will be ready for them!"

          "Negative, Starscream.  You and the project team will continue with the planetary jets, exploration, and calculations.  Shockwave and his forces will deal with any resistance."

          _"Shockwave!?"_  Starscream looked disgruntled, then brightened.  "Continued exploration?  My idea will be used?"

          Megatron sighed.  "_Yes_, Starscream."

          Starscream moved to switch off the connection, but stopped.  "Megatron, if time is so important, there might be another way.  We've moved the entire planet over the space-bridge before…"

          "The space-bridge connects only to Earth."

          "_Shockwave's_ does," said Starscream.  "What we need is another space-bridge; one could be set up here in Dreadmoon's watchtower.  We must still have the designs for the pylons needed for such a large cargo around somewhere.  We could make more, take them to Barnard's Star… of course, if there are no planets, we'll have to tow a large asteroid in to set them up, but…"

          _But it would cost more energy, more materials, more labour._  It would be another three weeks, at least, at the exhausting pace they had set themselves.  But it would only be three weeks, and anything could happen in seven years.  The benefits outweighed the costs.  "Permission granted."

* * *

          "Hm."

          "What is it, boss?"

          Shockwave looked over briefly from his instruments.  "They want me to install a space-bridge in the Sixth Sector.  That, and the Autobots are making things dangerous on Earth.  I don't like to leave my post with that kind of situation…"  He sighed and gave Stalker a critical look.

          "I've performed all of your tasks before," Stalker reminded him.  "I can operate the space-bridge and monitor the skies.  I can handle the control tower until you get back."

          "Hm," repeated Shockwave.  "I suppose.  You'll be in charge of increasing security as well.  Awaken Razorshift's guard; they're in the hangar.  I'll leave for the Sixth Sector after giving them their basic orders."

          Stalker saluted vaguely and left, heading down a corridor that would take her to the well-shielded and rarely-used hangar.  Megatron's army on Earth were not the only Decepticons; many still existed on Cybertron, but they were in stasis like everything else.  Once in a while, a few warriors were wakened for various tasks, but once completed, they slept again.  With the Decepticons on Earth working overtime to collect energon, there was currently enough power to awaken a small strike-force.

          The tracker went first to the one who had been captain of the First Sector guard, where she made the necessary attachments to return power and consciousness to his form, then stepped back as his optics shone red.  "Razorshift.  Shockwave summons you."

          The black Seeker disconnected himself from the wall and gave her a careful look-over.  "Things have changed since I last functioned."

          "Two years ago, during the planetary space-bridge incident.  I checked your record."  Then, picking up on his meaning, she added, "I am Stalker.  I work for Shockwave."

          As Razorshift did a mental check of his systems, Stalker moved to the next Seeker and began the sequence to wake him from hibernation.  Razorshift pitched in, and soon the other four were conscious and ready to receive their orders.  They weren't entirely thrilled when they learned they would be subordinate to the relatively inexperienced Stalker, but Shockwave's orders stood, and, hey, at least they were active again.

* * *

          "Hey!  Friend or Foe?"

          "If you don't get out of our way, Rumble, it's going to be 'foe', 'foe'."

          Rumble stood aside and pouted.  "You're no fun.  The others all say 'friend'."

          "So would any spy with half a RAM chip," sniggered Bombshell as the Insecticons walked past.  Well, hopped or hovered or skittered past; they were, as usual, in their insectoid forms.

          "Don't snack on anything important!" Rumble cheerfully called after them.

          "Bite me."  Kickback chuckled and added a quiet, "Or vice-versa."

          "Control yourself, self," Shrapnel admonished.  "We're here to work."

          They continued, in their ways, down the hall.  Despite Rumble's flippant manner, security down here, under the planetary jets, was tight.  For six Levels down, the automated security systems and all cameras were on, and all that was monitored from the surface by Rumble or Frenzy ( at the moment, it was Frenzy's turn. )  There were also guards; Shockwave's sentinels mostly.  The other cassettes also roamed the halls.

          Currently, so did the Insecticons.  While the Constructicons actually built the jets, it was the Insecticons' job to tie them into Cybertron's power grid.  More importantly, they were to make sure the ancient systems could handle the flow.

          There was a crunching sound.  Exasperated, Shrapnel turned around.  "Bombshell!  What did I tell you, tell you?"

          The beetle removed the length of his pipe from his mandibles, but only enough so he could talk.  "It isn't anything important."

          "As long as you brought enough to share, share."

* * *

          The second space-bridge could be constructed by Shockwave and his menials.  They _had_ made the first space-bridge, after all, and no one really understood how the technology worked except Shockwave, anyway.  Which left the pylons to the rather disgruntled Constructicons.

          "More work!?" yelled Longhaul.

          "But we _like_ to work," Scavenger reminded him.

          "Oh.  Yeah."

          Immediately afterwards, the Constructicons started bickering about whether to build the pylons on Cybertron and transport them, whether they should go to Barnard's Star themselves and build the pylons there, and the usual complaints about idiot design in the first place.  They hadn't been active at the time when Cybertron was transported to Earth.

          In the end, they decided that prefabrication was the best way to go ( they had better access to tools and materials, plus they could bully the Insecticons into helping them. )  Besides, it gave Starscream and Astrotrain a chance to scout ahead and find the best spot for the pylons.

          Starscream and Astrotrain were not thrilled.  "Maybe I should disconnect my audio sensors this time," sneered Astrotrain.  "I might get myself caught in another sandstorm just to shut you up."

          "How would you like me to disconnect your mouth?"

          "How would you like me to disconnect your _head_?.."

          "Now, now, let's not fight," said Mixmaster with what he knew was patronising cheerfulness.  "You two get to go on a nice little trip while _we_ do all the real work."

          Starscream and Astrotrain considered pushing him over, but the other Constructicons would jump on them, so they just glared and left to find supplies.

          Behind them, the Constructicons snickered.  "This plan keeps getting more grandiose by the minute," said Scrapper.  "Ah, well.  Where are those Insecticons?  We'll get their army to collect the metal for these space pylons…"

* * *

          "Shockwave," Dreadmoon saluted.  "I don't think I've ever met you in person before."

          "Lucky you," said Shockwave vaguely.  "How is the work coming?"

          The blue monitor called up a view-screen.  "The jets are complete," he said.  "The Insecticons attached them to the planetary power grid two days ago.  Their preliminary testing shows they work within acceptable limits.  The Constructicons and Insecticons have started work on the space-bridge pylons, while Starscream and Astrotrain are still _en route_ to Barnard's Star."  Their progress reports were rather interesting; they never referred to each other by name, and hadn't yet used the same insult twice.  Dreadmoon cleaned up the reports before filing them, of course.  He was curious how long they could keep it up.

          "Fortunately, I won't need any of them," said Shockwave.  "I will be borrowing your menials, however."

          "Certainly."  As if Dreadmoon could refuse the requests of a superior officer.  Well, he _could_, but he'd get in trouble for it.

* * *

          Two-and-a-half weeks passed without major incident, at least on Cybertron.  This was likely due to two-and-a-half weeks passing with increased Autobot suspicion and raids on Earth.  Attacks on the space-bridge happened almost daily, but fortunately the Autobots tended to draw back before suffering any major casualties and hadn't yet broken through.  Dreadmoon had asked why they didn't just disable the space-bridge for the time being, just take a key component and hide it, so it wouldn't matter if the Autobots took the bridge.  Shockwave pointed out that the Autobots could probably just repair it, and anyway, if the Autobots took it, they could pull the same trick or just destroy it, and the Decepticons still needed it for the energon shipments.  Better to simply hold it.

          Aside from a few Insecticon clones getting mysteriously squashed ( the Constructicons denied all knowledge of the fact ), the building of the pylons went smoothly.  When they were finally complete, however, Dreadmoon expressed some worry.  "I didn't expect them to be quite so large."  Astrotrain and Starscream were still at Barnard's Star doing survey work, leaving Dreadmoon the only spacecraft around.  "I don't think I could handle even _one_ of those."

          "Who said you'd have to?" asked Scrapper.  "Go be administrative and find us a cargo ship or something.  One that doesn't turn into anybody."

          Dreadmoon did, and a few days later, the crew arrived at Barnard's Star.  Specifically, on a tiny dustball that the word 'planet' might be too generous for.  No matter; it was a dead world, and all it was required for was to anchor the pylons.  When Cybertron arrived, the small spheroid would either be destroyed, or, pulled by the larger planet's gravitational field, become a moon.

          Starscream and Astrotrain had finished their once-over of the small system, and had returned to this planetoid to help set up.  That, and it gave them a bit of space to get away from one another.  It was Starscream who greeted the crew of the purple cargo ship as it landed.  "Welcome to Crummy Little Dustball.  One of many, anyway."

          The small planet was airless, so he broadcast the message over internal radio.  It was almost telepathy, but not quite; it could only be used for communication.  Well, unless you were trained to pick up on the subtle electricity of thought and hear what wasn't consciously broadcast, but none here had the skill.  Starscream looked over the newcomers: Dreadmoon, the Constructicons…  "The Insecticons?  Why them?"

          Scrapper shrugged.  "We'll be needed back at the planetary jets.  Soundwave's there doing final checks, and he could probably run them, but we'd rather be back there ourselves.  _Someone_ has to push the buttons at this end."

          "Someone who knows how to fix things if they go wrong, wrong," added Shrapnel disapprovingly.  _Lousy stuck-up Constructicons.  We helped build!_  Of course, he had his own reasons for being there.  Nothing so obvious or counter-productive as sabotage; Shrapnel simply wanted an Insecticon _presence_ at one of the crucial points of the project.  A presence that might be used later to enhance the Insecticon bargaining position…

          "Whatever," said Scrapper.  "It'll take a few hours to set up.  We'll take the cargo ship back when we're done."

          Starscream nodded.  "Good.  Astrotrain and I will leave, and…"

          "Leave yourself," snapped Astrotrain.  "If I have to put up with any more of your whining…"

          "How would you like to be reprogrammed with a large axe?"

          "Twerp."

          "Jerk."

          "Look, I have to get back to Cybertron anyway…" started Dreadmoon.

          _"Fine!"_ shouted Starscream and Astrotrain at the same time.  The Seeker turned on his heel and started away.  "Well, come on."

          It took Dreadmoon a moment to realise that Starscream's impatience had transferred to him.  He shifted quickly, waited for the other to board, and took off.

* * *

          "Sensors are picking up a spaceship coming this way," Stalker announced.  She checked a few other instruments.  "Autobots, unfortunately."  Astrotrain, Dreadmoon, Starscream, the Insecticons, and the Constructicons were still off-world.  It seemed the Autobots had finally decided to invade the old-fashioned way.

          "Well, we figured they would come – it _is_ what we were activated for," said Razorshift.  _And you won't be tagging along to get in the way of my experienced warriors._  "Any readings on who we're up against?"

          Stalker shook her head.  "Not at this range."  Fortunately, it looked too small to be Omega Supreme.  She had never personally met any of the Earth Autobots, but she had looked them up in Shockwave's database.  "This must be a reconnaissance mission rather than a full attack."__

          "Makes our job easier."  Razorshift started out, then paused.  "Don't they have an illusionist in their number?  Could they be confusing our sensors?  They _must_ know we'll be expecting them."  Apparently Razorshift had seen the database, too.

          "Holograms are merely refracted light; they only affect the optics.  The sensors can see right through them."  _Great.  Much more of this and I'll start to sound like Shockwave,_ thought Stalker.  "Judging by their current course, they'll come down here," she said, pointing at a map.  "Go there; I'll keep you updated on their position.  All else is up to you."  _And you like that, don't you?_  And, because she knew it would annoy him, she added, "Good luck."

* * *

          "This is incredible.  We'll finally be able to reawaken the planet…"

          "We haven't succeeded yet," Starscream reminded him.  The cargo ship was about four hours behind them, carrying the Constructicons.  The Insecticons had been left behind to tend the pylons, and Astrotrain to tend the Insecticons.

          Dreadmoon's sensors flared.  "Starscream!  Come look at this."

          The Seeker looked over at the screen Dreadmoon activated.  "Autobots!  Somehow they got to Cybertron!  They must have taken a ship…"  _And I think I know who._  He scowled at the image.  "Zoom in on that one there, the big white one."

          Obediently, Dreadmoon focused his scanners, but wasn't so distracted that he missed the dangerous flare in his passenger's optics.  "Starscream?.."

          "Let me out near that one, then head back to your Sector to report."

          "It doesn't look like our side needs help."

          It was true.  For once, the Decepticons seemed to outnumber the Autobots; six to three.  Of course, one of them was rather large, but that was beside the point…  "This isn't business.  This is just for fun."

          The edge in the voice didn't match the flippancy of the words.  "He's three times your size, Starscream.  Besides, we're under orders to keep working."

          "_You're_ under orders to keep working.  _My_ part of the project is over, therefore _I_ may do as I please."  He rapped sharply on the outer hatch.  "And it pleases me to join the battle, so open up."

          Dreadmoon opened the hatch to allow Starscream out, then shifted back into robot-mode.  He couldn't stop the Seeker from doing whatever he wanted; Starscream was too high-ranking and far too stubborn to be argued out of things.  However, it would probably be bad form to let him get trashed.  Besides, he didn't trust the look in Starscream's eyes when he got a better look at the Autobot.

          Starscream didn't notice that he wasn't alone.  He didn't see anything but his opponent.  He dove from the sky, lasers flashing: "_Skyfire!_  Face me, old _friend_!"

* * *

          Engrossed in the battle, wishing she were out there, but stuck watching it from the control tower, Stalker almost didn't notice that a computer was active.  That wasn't in itself strange.  The strange part was that it was actively looking up things while she was on the other side of the room.  The keys on the console were moving, too.  She took a shot at where she judged the intruder to be, if indeed there was one.

          The shot sprayed in the air, as if hitting a solid body.  The accompanying noise of surprise proved her guess; Stalker knew there was an Autobot who could turn invisible, and she was dealing with him now.  Unfortunately, he didn't turn visible, and the lack of a crash meant he was still standing.

          She switched to radar, but it didn't help.  Apparently this one could fool her other 'visual' senses as well.  Stalker bit back the impulse to say something like, "Show yourself!"  If the Autobot had any sense, he wouldn't do it, and she had to keep her audio receptors open for any noise that would give him away.

          There was a faint scrape of metal on metal, but before Stalker could pinpoint its source, a burst of laserfire hit her in the back.  The tracker allowed herself to fall; her opponent had the advantage, and playing possum would give her a few minutes to try to figure out a way to defeat him.  The floor was too solid to be able to detect the vibrations of where he walked, and he walked very quietly.  He would probably go back to the computer soon, which meant she'd know where he was, but again she'd only get one shot.  If that failed, he might panic and do something more serious than just shoot her and assume she'd lost.  She had to make him visible, somehow…

          The computer began working by itself again.  In one motion, Stalker rolled to her feet and smashed her left arm against the corner of a console.  Greenish coolant dripped from the ruptured hose in her gauntlet, and she waved this in the direction of the computer.  Most of the coolant splattered the screen and console, some hung in the air.  She shot at where it hung.

          Stalker and the floating coolant splatters traded shots for a few seconds before the Autobot decided that discretion was the better part of valour ( plus, he was outgunned ) and fled.  Stalker started to follow before remembering she couldn't leave the control room… well, she _could_, but it would be stupid.  Hopefully he hadn't got what he had come for ( she could find out what he was looking at, but she couldn't know his motives, ) and would go straight back out to his comrades.  Still, Stalker called up the various anti-tamper protocols to alert her if anyone tried to use the tower computers.

          Still, there was a slight joy in knowing that an Autobot had got past that arrogant Razorshift.

* * *

          _Skyfire!_  Starscream had mentioned the Autobot before, accidentally, and in contradictory terms.  Currently they were at each other's throats, shouting vague accusations and specific insults – 'traitor' being a favourite.  Dreadmoon hung back, waiting to see how things would play out, but poised to join in if the Seeker needed help.

          Which, as the monitor had predicted, he did.  Starscream was more agile and had greater firepower, but there was just too much Skyfire to cause him serious damage.  A laser finally caught the Seeker in mid-flight and knocked him from the sky.

          Dreadmoon swooped in.  Below him, Starscream was calling him every type of fool, but if Starscream could act weirdly overprotective, so could he.

          A nearby explosion from the main fight caught the monitor in its wake and flung him against a wall.  Another blast caused the building it was a part of to shake.

          The entire structure trembled.  Dreadmoon saw it coming, but there was no time to get out of the way.  He tried to fold his wings around himself, to shield his vital systems from the worst of the damage… and then the building fell on him.

          _"Dreadmoon!"_  Starscream fired one last time at Skyfire, then flew back to the wreckage, which he started tearing into with his hands.  _He's down there.  I can feel…_

          He looked up, furious, when a shot lanced past his wing.  "What do you think you're _doing_, you idiot?"

          Skyfire aimed again.  "Stopping you."

          "Fool!  He's dying down there!  I can feel his energy signature fading…"  Starscream tossed aside another sheet of metal.  "_You're_ the one who preaches the preservation of all life!"

          "I…"

          _"Then help me or get out of my way!"_

          Skyfire and Starscream's last meeting had _not_ been on friendly terms.  If they had a chance to sit down and talk, reintroduce themselves, things might have worked out.  But, the moment had years ago passed, and the rifts were too deep to heal.  Each thought the other was changed, crazy, a traitor, but for opposing reasons that they never had the chance to sort out.

          Here and now, Skyfire realised he had a choice: He could shoot Starscream while he was otherwise occupied, and thus rid the universe of two Decepticons.  He could leave and let Starscream deal with it.  Or he could help.  If he helped, he might be betraying the Autobots, but at least he would be staying true to himself.  Maybe the Decepticons would never change, but they certainly couldn't if they were dead.  He set to work.

          With Skyfire's help, it took about fifteen minutes to pull Dreadmoon's broken form from the wreckage.  "He still functions," said Starscream quietly.  "His mind still functions.  The Constructicons can repair him…"

          Despite being out of the loop far longer than Starscream, Skyfire still had more scientific training, and knew hopeless when he saw it.  "Barely.  Too many of his systems have been destroyed.  He won't last another two minutes."

          "Not again…"

          Skyfire wasn't sure who Starscream's last comment was addressed to, but he was fairly certain it wasn't anyone currently present.  The abject desolation in the voice was enough for anyone, though.  "Maybe… we could stabilize him enough to be taken to a mechanic in time."  The white shuttle crouched down to see better.  "You'll have to do it; my hands are too big," he directed.  "All right, open him up… splice his secondary fuel line to this cable, then loop it back…"

          There were times when you didn't question orders, no matter who they were from.  This was one of those.  Starscream worked as quickly as Skyfire spoke; it wasn't a tidy job and the Constructicons would complain bitterly about having to undo it, but at least Dreadmoon would survive.  Had a chance of surviving, anyway.

          "We've bought him time, maybe ten minutes," began Skyfire, but Starscream had collected up the monitor and taken off by the time he reached 'maybe'.  _Typical Decepticon,_ thought Skyfire bitterly.  _Doesn't even say 'thank you'._  For a few minutes back there, he thought maybe he and Starscream had a chance…

          His radio activated: "Skyfire, Cybertron will be going through a space-bridge in six hours.  You can't get to the contact point in time to stop it.  Unless you've significantly improved your range, I suggest you clear off, because you'll never reach the Cybertron-Earth space-bridge with our current security and you'll never make it back to Earth from where we're going."

          _Starscream._  Skyfire replied, "Why are you telling me this?"

          A short, uncomfortable pause.  "I owed you.  Your life for Dreadmoon's."  The connection ended.

          _Even when they thank you they still give it to you back-hand._  Skyfire sighed.  Then he shifted and went to collect the other three Autobots.

* * *

          "Three minutes to activation."

          "I am aware of that."

          Despite all appearances, Soundwave was somewhat nervous about the whole thing.  Space-bridge technology was far from perfect, and while they _had_ in the past used one to transport Cybertron, waiting for the planet to arrive was somewhat less nerve-wracking than actually riding it.  So many things could go wrong, and the Decepticons were spread so thin, trying to keep those so many things at bay…

          _Earth:_ Megatron and the main part of the army had to divide their time between collecting energon and preventing the Autobots from stopping their plans.  Both were top priority right now, especially since the Autobots knew what they were up to.  They must have an idea, at least.

          _Cybertron, First Sector:_ Shockwave's guards acted as the second line of defence against the Autobots.  If they managed to get to the Earth space-bridge, Razorshift's Seekers had to make sure their journey ended in the control tower.  They also monitored space for any unwanted craft.

          _Cybertron, Sixth Sector:_ Soundwave and Shockwave stood by the Cybertron-Barnard's Star space-bridge while Scrapper and Bonecrusher tended the planetary jets.  Soundwave would have preferred all the Constructicons there, but the other four were caught up in trying to stabilize Dreadmoon.  Starscream was around somewhere, moping or panicking.  It was probably just as well he wasn't near the equipment; Starscream never _did_ handle stress well.

          _Barnard's Star:_ Astrotrain and the Insecticons waited by the pylons that made the great space-bridge.  In less than three minutes, they would activate the pylons, opening a tear in subspace that would draw Cybertron to itself.

          "Two minutes to activation."

          "Would you knock that off?"  Shockwave's eye flashed his annoyance.  "My internal chronometer works perfectly well."

          Shockwave wasn't much for stress either, if his voice was any indication.  Any emotion from the monitor could safely be interpreted as worrisome.  Of course, there was much to be stressed about, and if Shockwave wasn't caught up in his own uncertainties, he'd realise that Soundwave wasn't doing too well himself – if you knew what to look for, he was fidgeting.  The lieutenant switched on his radio: "Scrapper, is everything ready?"

          The Constructicon's voice filtered back: "Everything on _our_ end works.  We know what to do."  He cut the connection.

          The one minute mark passed unheralded, but Soundwave still counted it down to himself.  _Fifty-nine.  Fifty-eight.  Fifty-seven…_

          Razorshift's Seekers had reported that the Autobots had left in a hurry.  Did they learn what was to come and decide to flee, or had they sabotaged the project?

          _Forty-four.  Forty-three.  Forty-two…_

          The Insecticons were not terribly loyal or even conscientious beings.  Could they be trusted to open the space-bridge at the proper time?

          _Twenty.  Nineteen.  Eighteen…_

          Despite Scrapper's assurances, the jets could still fail and the planet would get pulled in by the gravitational pull of Barnard's Star.

          _Three.  Two.  One…_

          The sky tore, and impossible clouds boiled out from the opening.  And Cybertron was supposed to go _into_ that maelstrom.  Soundwave kept his attention on the console before him; looking at numbers was easier than looking at the seething sky.

          Then, suddenly, it was over.  The strange lights of the space-bridge were replaced by a sullen red glow, and the howling subspace winds were replaced by his own radio and Scrapper shouting, "Where are we?  We have to compensate!"

          Soundwave sent him the exact co-ordinates.  There was some background noise before Scrapper's voice returned: "Not bad.  Only a few degrees off.  We'll get Cybertron moving, and then we're going to rejoin the others in the workshop.  Scrapper out."

          As soon as the Constructicon signed off, Soundwave reactivated his radio.  "Astrotrain, collect the Insecticons and return."  The triple-changer answered his affirmative, and Soundwave went to take over at the planetary jets.

* * *

          "Yecch.  What a mess."

          "I've done better patch-ups with tin cans and duct-tape."

          "I vote we put a restraining order on Starscream to keep him from doing repair jobs."

          "I vote we plain-out restrain him."

          It had taken four hours to sort out Dreadmoon's vital systems.  Most of that was from crushing damage, but the Constructicons, like all tradesbeings, were happiest when they were blaming others for the problems of their job.

          Mixmaster found a rag somewhere and wiped hydraulic fluid from his hands.  "Well, fellows, should we tell him?"

          "We aren't finished," protested Hook.

          "Bah, it's all secondary or cosmetic what's left," said Longhaul.  "Dreadmoon'll be fine.  Maybe Starscream will stop callin' us every ten minutes if we tell him."

          The others quickly agreed that this idea was sound.  Their first act had been to shove the Seeker out the door and lock it, but after that they had been too busy to disconnect their radios.  Starscream was duly contacted and informed, but the Constructicons all shut off their communicators as soon as the report was finished.  Just in case.

          Scrapper stood from where he was leaning against a table.  "Well," he said, "there's still work to be done."

* * *

          There was still work to be done.  Solar panels had to be installed to collect the light of the small, red sun.  Cybertron's orbit had to be watched carefully for the next several decades, and corrected with the planetary jets if needed.  The pylons should be deconstructed and the space-bridge reset for some other destination – the bridge to Barnard's Star was no longer required.  As the solar panels restocked Cybertron's energy reserves, the planet could be awakened.  There was rebuilding to do… there was _always_ rebuilding to do.

          Soundwave stood in the shadow of the planetary jets, trying to adjust to the strange light spilling over a world he had never known to have a sun, and sighed.  _We have our work cut out for us._  But for the moment he could relax.  Just for a moment.

          Unfortunately, the moment, as moments do, passed.  They had succeeded in their project and won life for their world, but now they had to keep it.  Being a mostly artificial world, raw materials had to be brought in from elsewhere.  The poor light of Barnard's Star was enough to run Cybertron, but not enough to fuel expansion attempts.  Other sources of power had to be found.  There were still the Autobots to deal with; Optimus Prime's on Earth and Elita-1's below.  Eventually they would have to either have to convince Vector Sigma to be neutral again or find some other way to create new minds for their people…

          So much to do, and eternity to do it in.

          _To be continued…_


	3. 'Worlds Away' - chapter three

**Worlds Away: Chapter Three**

          Megatron sat back in the Decepticon throne on Cybertron and allowed himself a good, long laugh.

          They hadn't won, not yet.  The Autobots still existed, but Cybertron was safe.  It now orbited what the humans called Barnard's Star.  It was a small star, not very bright, not very hot, but it generated enough energy to pull Cybertron from hibernation.  Shockwave had put seven-eighths of the planet into stasis two million years ago to conserve power.   Now it could be awakened.

          "Are you _quite_ through?"

          The Decepticon High Commander looked over at his second.  "Ah, Starscream.  Even _you_ can't ruin my day."  Not that Starscream wouldn't try.

          "There's still work to do.  We shouldn't celebrate yet."  Usually Starscream was the first to declare victory, often prematurely.  However, out of spite held so long that it became second nature, Starscream would almost always do the opposite of whatever Megatron did.  Megatron tended to be the more cautious of the two, but now that he was relaxed, Starscream _had_ to be wary.  The Seeker hated to examine his own mind and didn't realise that Megatron could ( and often did ) manipulate him in that way.

          "I doubt you'll be able to stop the entire planet."  After two million years, there was bound to be some amount of celebration.

          The Seeker waved a hand, agitated in the face of his commander's calm.  "That isn't the point!  The Autobots will be after us again soon.  We will need more energy if we wish to expand the empire.  We still have people scattered throughout the galaxies.  Vector Sigma will no longer work for us…"

          "Starscream, shut up.  You're not telling me anything new."  At the moment, the last point was the most important one.  The Autobots had no idea where Cybertron was, and thus had the disadvantage.  Expansion and searching would be put off for a while, anyway.  But Vector Sigma… that was personal.

          Vector Sigma was a great computer, one of the old programs, located deep within Cybertron.  The key had been destroyed, but the loss was minor; while the Decepticons had it in their possession, they made detailed enough scans of the key to duplicate it.  It should have worked… except that one of the Autobots merged with the program, and it would no longer create minds for the Decepticons.  But if such a program could be created once, it might be duplicated, and there _were_ other ways to create new minds…

          "I merely think we should have a set plan of action," said Starscream defensively.

          "One thing at a time.  The solar stations are nearly complete.  First we awaken Cybertron," Megatron reminded him, standing.  "_I_ will deal with Vector Sigma.  The rest can wait.  Now go away."

          The Seeker folded into his jet-form, chuckling as he did so.  When Megatron was annoyed, Starscream was happy.

* * *

          Soundwave looked over as Starscream landed.  The Seeker looked pleased with himself, which was never a good sign.  "Just doing my rounds," he called cheerfully at Soundwave's curious look.  After Cybertron had been transported, most of the work crew left.  Starscream and Soundwave remained behind, and Megatron had arrived to see the results of his scheme.  Astrotrain and the Constructicons went back to Earth.  No one was sure where the Insecticons were now.

          "'Rounds'?"

          "Making sure the lights are coming on, putting in personal appearances to let the populace know that the old hierarchy is still around, reminding Megatron of things to worry about," said Starscream, ticking off the points on his fingers.  "The usual."  Soundwave shook his head in disapproval and wandered over to where a group of technicians were looking over an open panel in the side of the planetary jets in curiousity.

          "You've got weird hobbies, Starscream."  The voice came from somewhere above him.  Starscream looked up; the five cassettes were peering down on him from a ledge on one of the jets.  They wanted to be out, but Soundwave didn't want them to run off too far _or_ get underfoot, so they compromised.  Frenzy was dangling his feet and was evidently the speaker.

          Rumble peeked over the red cassette's shoulder.  "What's Megatron planning now?  We just gonna ditch Earth?"

          "Unfortunately not."  It was a temptation, the idea of just collecting the army and closing down the Cybertron-Earth space-bridge.  It would drive the Autobots batty, at least at first; wherever the Decepticons were, they _couldn't_ be up to anything good.  And they wouldn't be able to find them anywhere on Earth, and they'd go crazy looking or them.  Eventually they'd try the space-bridge, and realise the Decepticons had pulled out for good.

          However, it wouldn't work for two reasons.  First, the Autobots would eventually find them and get back to being a nuisance.  Second, if the Decepticons left, they couldn't keep an eye on their enemies.  Who knew what kind of trouble the Autobots could cause if left unchecked on such a resource-rich planet such as Earth?  It was foolish to believe the two factions would never meet again, being only six light-years apart and having lifespans that were measured in geologic eras…  The Decepticons could keep running, of course.  They could send out scouts, set up new space-bridges, and transport Cybertron further and further away…

          But they were Decepticons, said Starscream, and they wouldn't run.

          "You're getting better at your inspirational speeches," said Frenzy happily.  Starscream gave up and left.  He still had things to do.

* * *

          Stalker's form unfolded as she entered the hangar, and she immediately sought out Shockwave.  He was, as expected, in the control room.  "It's incredible out there!  Shockwave, you've got to come out and watch the results of your handiwork!"

          "I can see perfectly well from in here," Shockwave said.  He _did_ have access to every camera on Cybertron, and there were a _lot_ of them.

          The monitor's typically unemotional reply drained at least part of the tracker's zeal.  _Boring Shockwave wouldn't understand, anyway._  Just because _she_ found it fascinating to watch the cold lights of Cybertron's great cities drive back the sullen red light of Barnard's Star, to listen to the almost imperceptible hum of awakening systems, to finally see movement again in the long-sleeping streets…  Shockwave wouldn't have appreciated being pulled into an impromptu game of sky-tag by a couple of newly-revived jets whose enthusiasm shadowed even Stalker's own, either.  She could have stayed out there until her energy reserves forced her back, but she was summoned, and she asked why.

          Shockwave finished whatever minor task he was performing before replying.  "I will be out for a time.  You must watch the tower."

          "Sure, boss."  The Seeker quickly moved over to the console, trying to make up for her brief inattention.  "Where are you going?"

          "On assignment with Megatron."  She didn't need to know more than that.  Shockwave gestured at his computer: "The Seventh Sector is ready to come out of stasis.  Begin the awakening."

* * *

          It wasn't something you'd think would be immediately important; Transformers were long-lived and almost impossible to destroy.  It wasn't as if they needed to keep their population high.  Of course, if one wanted to expand one's empire beyond the planet, one needed subjects.  Without an influx of new minds, the empire's range was limited, and Cybertron had only a few hundred citizens left.

          Which brought Megatron and Shockwave to where they were now, deep in Cybertron.  They had already attempted to reactivate Vector Sigma with a duplicate key some days ago, and found they needn't have bothered; with an Autobot merged with the program, they couldn't get it to do their bidding.

          Ways around it were discussed, including sacrificing a first-generation Vector Sigma-product Decepticon to the program to try to pull things back to neutral.  There was a slight problem – no one knew of any.  They might have been nearly impossible to destroy, but a war machine is going to have a shorter life expectancy than one who stays out of the line of fire.

          Threats were out as well.  One, hostages were only useable bargaining chips while they lived.  Two, you didn't want the machine that had full control over the minds of your people to be working under duress.

          The fact that the Vector Sigma computer now had a guiding intelligence also meant that it no longer required a key for awakening.  It flared briefly as Megatron entered the chamber.  Shockwave waited in the hall as back-up – to assist Megatron if he needed it, or to seal the area if things got really bad.  Orange light pulsed and the walls intoned: "Megatron.  Why have you returned?"

          "I have come," he said, "to talk."  It was the last option.  A bit of a wild guess, but maybe, _just_ maybe, he could talk some sense into the ancient computer.

          "Talk?"

          The disbelief in the disembodied voice reminded Megatron just why he hated Autobots so much.  "Talk.  Discuss.  Come to a mutual agreement."  With an effort, he cut the annoyance from his voice.  "You have something we need, we have something you need."

          "You have nothing to offer."

          How much was Vector Sigma and how much was Alpha Trion?  It mattered; it was the ancient computer Megatron had to appeal to, to cast the Autobot out.  Alpha Trion would never listen to Decepticon reason.  "Before Cybertron was, you were.  Cybertron nearly wasn't.  We the Decepticons have always held the planet's interests at heart, often with great risk to ourselves.  Without our fire, without our spirit, all Transformers would still be thralls of the Builders.  Give the Autobots your services if you must, but _we_ are the ones who have earned it.  You gave us life; we have done nothing worse than defend our planet and guard our survival, and you would condemn us to extinction?"

          "Your survival takes its toll on the helpless.  Perhaps the universe will not be better off without you, but countless civilisations will.  And you are not condemned; a peaceful life can last you eternity."

          It was obvious who was the controlling interest in the ancient program.  Megatron hid a scowl.  How was he supposed to convince an _Autobot_ that it was wrong?  "The purpose of Vector Sigma was neutrality.  Minds had to be random, or else the point would be lost.  And it _was_ random; how many Autobots joined the Decepticon cause of their own free will?  And how many of my people defected to the other side?

          "Would you take that away?  And how far will you take it?  Today you refuse life to the Decepticons; tomorrow will you start to _guide_ the thoughts of the Autobots?  A little more loyalty to the cause so they won't consider changing sides?  A bit more self-sacrifice so they don't realise how dreary their existence is?  Take away their survival instinct so they become content to sit on their world and slowly die out, or be wiped out by the next alien war fleet because they can't stand to fight back?"

          Megatron clamped down on his emotions; he had to try to stay neutral.  He lowered his voice to keep from shouting: "When will you stop, Vector Sigma?  When all think what _you_ would have them think?  I had thought we had moved past the Builders and their slavery.  Perhaps they will be content, but they would only be content slaves.  Even the Builders let us dream of freedom.  Who are you to declare yourself a god?"

          Silence reigned for several minutes.  Finally, Vector Sigma said, "It will not be like that."

          "As the Decepticon leader, I have a responsibility to defend my people.  You hold their future hostage…"  Megatron raised his fusion cannon… and abruptly lowered it, giving into a paroxysm of laughter.

          A few, long, seconds later, Vector Sigma asked, "Well?"

          Eventually, Megatron got a hold of himself and straightened, but his attempt at regal bearing was somewhat marred by a sardonic smile.  "You've just done us a great service, Vector Sigma.  I'd almost forgotten one of the main tenets of the Decepticon Cause – Rely on no one but yourself.  We've always thought the Autobots a bit stupid for clinging to the old programs of the Builders, and here we are worried because _you_ won't help us.

          "The Builders gave us existence, yes, but they also gave us oppression and slavery.  You, Vector Sigma, are the last trap.  The Decepticons hereby cut all ties with the Builders."  He started out.

          The sphere flared.  "You cannot create new minds without me!"

"Can't we?  That's the trap – dependence on Builder machines.  We thought we won long ago, but it is only now that we are truly free."  Megatron threw one last glance into the chamber.  "We are Decepticons.  We'll find our own way."

          Megatron found Shockwave waiting in the outer hall, and didn't speak to him until the sullen glow of Vector Sigma was far behind them.  "I'm assuming it has its own power source?"

          "It does," said Shockwave.

          "Excellent.  Disconnect Vector Sigma's machines from the rest of Cybertron; not just with lock-outs – I want the cables physically detached," Megatron amended.  "Leave it and its generator intact.  I don't want it destroyed, merely made harmless.  I will keep it as a symbol – not all chains are obvious."

          "Very good, sir," said Shockwave, though there was no way to tell if he was being sincere, sarcastic, or merely polite.  "I'll set some technicians on it immediately.  What next?"

          It would always be a question of 'what next?', so all you could do was prioritise.  "Next we'll have to come up with our own methods to create new minds."

* * *

          By now, the people of the Sixth Sector were awake and generally milling around.  Some took to the sky to seek out old friends or just to play, others remained on the ground, catching up with each other as if there were actually anything to say after stasis-sleep.  Most were asking questions that no one could immediately answer.  Shockwave had posted bulletins on all active screens, but of course it wasn't enough.  Megatron fully intended to broadcast a proper address to bring everyone up to speed, but he wanted to wait until the planet was fully active.  He disliked repeating himself.

          He was certainly noticed, though no one approached him.  It was just as well; there were things he wanted to get done before becoming a public figure again.  Megatron landed near the planetary jets, startling a purple tank.  "L-Lord Megatron…"

          Megatron waved the formality aside; he preferred his military title to his monarchic one.  Not because he was trying to be a people person or a common man's king, but merely because he liked the connotations better.  Lord Megatron of Cybertron, High Commander of the Decepticon Battle Fleet sat around while others did all the work; Commander Megatron actually got things done.  It was also why he spurned a crown; while he understood the importance of symbolism, he didn't want to become one himself.  "Is Soundwave here?"

          "Around the other side of the jets," said the tank, pointing.

          The commander nodded and walked in the direction indicated.  Soundwave was indeed there, in the middle of a small crowd.  Megatron waved his lieutenant over, who made his excuses and went.  "What's all this?"

          "Technicians."  With the Constructicons back on Earth, the Insecticons who knows where, and Starscream tending his own tasks, Soundwave was the only one around qualified to run the jets.  They weren't needed currently, but he thought it prudent to train others in their use so he could go do other things.  Then he asked, "What of your mission?"

          Megatron took a cursory glance around.  "Vector Sigma is useless to us," he said _sotto voce_.  "Details later, away from the mob.  How long will you be here?"

          "Not long."

          "Good.  Return to Shockwave's tower in half an hour."  Megatron smiled grimly.  "All Sectors should be awake by then, and we'll be going on-air to explain where we are and what year it is…  Which reminds me – where did that idiot Starscream get to?"

          Anyone else would have made a razzing noise.  Soundwave just shrugged.  Megatron took off to go back to the First Sector.  Starscream could be summoned easily enough by radio.

          One of the mechanics noticed Soundwave walking back to the jets and approached him.  He looked something like a Constructicon, though of course he wasn't; that title only belonged to the six who formed Devastator.  But the general outline was similar; this one too looked like his transform was a piece of heavy machinery, though his colour was black with yellow highlights.  He made his way quietly, as if he didn't particularly want to be noticed.  Once he was close enough, he said, "Soundwave?  Lieutenant, may I speak freely?"

          "You may."

          The black Decepticon looked about nervously, and in a quieter tone said, "I'm sorry; I overheard your conversation…"  He paused, then started again: "Your cassettes, they aren't… they aren't Vector Sigma products, are they?"

          Soundwave glanced involuntarily at where Rumble and the others were amusing themselves.  While normally they were content to sleep in Soundwave's chest compartment, with all the excitement going on, they wanted to stay active.  They had found a playmate as well, an orange robot their size.  The mechanic nodded at the group.  "Her name's Gadget.  She's mine."

          There was an emphasis on 'mine' that went beyond proper Transformer relationships.  "You're taking a risk," Soundwave reminded him.  He _was_ talking to the third-in-command of the entire Decepticon army about a nearly taboo subject.

          "I'd be taking a bigger one if I was talking to the other side.  I joined the Decepticons because they allowed me to spark her.  Besides, I've watched you interact with your cassettes.  I knew."

          'Sparking', the act of using your own life-force to awaken life in a shell.  It was possible, though most Transformers didn't know it – not all life had to come from Vector Sigma.  "I never trusted Vector Sigma, even though I got my mind there.  I wanted Gadget to be my creation and mine alone…  I was neutral at the time; the Autobots were in charge, and they were outraged when I let slip my intentions…"

          The Autobots always _did_ hold the old programs with a bizarre reverence that was almost superstitious, though in later times they seemed to have eased off somewhat ( the Dinobots being a rather unfortunate example. )  The Decepticons knew better; _they_ were the ones who led the uprising against the Builders… all robots had been on the same side at the time, but it was the ones who later became Decepticons, the war machines, that overthrew the Builders.  Then the Autobots slowly forgot their slavery under the Builders, forgot who rescued them…  To the Decepticons, Vector Sigma was simply an extremely useful tool left behind by ancient enemies, and thus a thing to be exploited.

          "Understood," said Soundwave.  Vector Sigma gave minds randomly, fully educated, fully adult, and sometimes fully neurotic.  One had to be very careful in phrasing what one wanted to the ancient computer, because it was so aggressively neutral.  It used to be, anyway.

          But _sparked_ Transformers… that was a different story.  You could program them, to some extent, and you cold make them intelligent, but you could never give them a mature mind.  They had to learn, and as such, acted – here Soundwave had to use a human word – childlike.  If you knew what to look for, you could easily tell a sparked mind from a Vector Sigma product.  They also tended to be small, for the simple reason that it takes less energy to awaken a small robot.

          "I just wanted… to tell someone who would understand," finished the black Decepticon.  "Thank you."  He saluted and went back to the jets.

          Not all life had to come from Vector Sigma; Soundwave's tapes attested to that fact, and now he had proof of at least one other.  But sparking simply _wasn't allowed_.  It wasn't even allowed to be spoken of, as if it were holy writ.  Not for the first time Soundwave found himself wondering just _who_ came up with that law…

          It was something to consider.  Megatron certainly didn't care about ancient taboos – he was one of the few who knew the cassettes' unconventional origins – and the Decepticons as a whole were less tied to the old laws than the Autobots were.  The Decepticon cause came first, but individual freedom wasn't far behind it.

* * *

Cybertron had originally been in the galaxy locally known as M31, and it was known that scout teams or conquerors from bygone eras were still there.  And since the Decepticons had found evidence of their kind in the Milky Way Galaxy, it meant there were likely others in the nearby M33 as well.  And that wasn't counting dwarf galaxies like LMC and SMC, or those stars strewn throughout the void that might support planets…  

"Dreadmoon, activate the watchtower transmitter, maximum power.  Send a general request for report signal, one level less urgent than priority frequency."  Starscream paused.  "Wait.  Delay that order.  Send a message to Decepticon Headquarters on Earth first, and tell them to throw enough interference into the air to block signals from space."  The Autobots knew the Decepticons' usual frequencies, and Starscream didn't want them listening in and back-tracing the signals.  The general mediocrity of the information request and the fact that it wouldn't be on an emergency channel should keep any accidental listeners from paying any attention.

          The monitor keyed in the necessary commands, and a few seconds later Skywarp acknowledged: "It'll take time to set up the jamming transmitter."

          "It only needs to work for about ten minutes," Starscream told him.  "It doesn't have to be anything subtle.  In fact, the less subtle, the better.  And while you're at it, broadcast loudly about how this jamming field will help us take over the Earth.  Destroy a few human communications towers too, for the show of it.  Then let the Autobots chase you off so they'll be too busy patting themselves on the back to realise that we've actually succeeded in our real plan."

          "Sounds needlessly complicated."

          "It isn't.  Signal when you're ready to activate the field.  Starscream out."  The Seeker settled back in his chair and chuckled.  "We should try planting bugs in Autobot Headquarters.  I would enjoy watching them run around, trying to figure out what we're up to.  They know we've moved Cybertron, at least, but they don't know where."

          Dreadmoon looked over.  "What happens when our scattered people signal back?  If they're spread through three galaxies, how are we supposed to find them again?  We haven't any ships powerful enou…"  He paused and considered that.  "No, we must have.  How else could you and the others have crashed on Earth four million years ago?"

          "There is a… corridor," said Starscream.  "Natural or artificial, I couldn't tell you.  It links this galaxy and M31, perhaps more.  I think it touches subspace; all I know is that I could fly on my own power from Cybertron's old co-ordinates to Earth if I used it.  It was discovered soon before the final fall-out between the Autobots and Decepticons, so we never had a chance to study it thoroughly – the war got in the way.  The Autobot ship stumbled into it by accident four million years ago, and we followed.  An asteroid collision knocked our ships out close enough to Earth that we crashed into it."

          The monitor considered that.  "So this corridor is a type of wormhole?"

          "Kin to it maybe, but it isn't a wormhole," said Starscream positively.  "It's a corridor; one can enter or leave at any point, and I don't know how long it is."

          "Strange," said Dreadmoon.  Then, "Probably good that Cybertron wasn't returned to its original position.  The Autobots could just follow your corridor back.  They still might, though they'll be a bit confused to find we're not there."

          The Seeker steepled his fingers.  "The Autobots don't know about the corridor.  Few scientists even did; there wasn't time to tell about it, and we were too eager to see where it…"  Starscream paused, and corrected himself: "No, they _would_ know about it.  I forgot."

          He shook the thought aside, and continued another one.  "Retrieving our lost people will be simplicity itself.  We'll use the space-bridge.  The transporter rings are easy enough to make, once you have the schematics, and those can be sent over the communicators."

          "Hmm.  I'm surprised the space-bridge works at all," Dreadmoon said.  "I looked over Shockwave's plans as he was installing the one here, and it looked more like magic than science.  I understand subspace mathematics fine, but space-bridge calculations made my head hurt."  The Transformers had discovered and made use of subspace ages ago, mostly using it for long-range communication and to store or pull extra mass for their other forms.  "Besides, Cybertron keeps moving; how can it still work?"

          "Shockwave had two million years of near-solitude to invent hyperspatial mathematics," Starscream reminded him.  "I'm willing to bet he came up with the whole thing out of boredom.  And a space-bridge doesn't have a set size; the two contact points attach from anywhere.  In theory, you could use one to bridge the entire universe."

          The monitor smiled slightly.  "You don't have the faintest idea how it works either, do you?"

          "I can understand the concept," said Starscream huffily.  "I merely can't _explain_ it."

          Dreadmoon let it go at that and turned away so the Seeker couldn't see him smirk.  _Typical Starscream._

          Starscream's radio chimed.  "I'm busy," he said automatically.

          "Then get un-busy," ordered Megatron.  "Come to Shockwave's tower immediately."

          "Ah, the public address.  You need me there so the people have something nice to look at while you orate."  Starscream didn't actually have any real objections to the role of 'stand around and look formal while Megatron gives his speech', he just felt like being a nuisance.

          "You will come now of your own free will or you will be carried."

          "Erm…  I'll be there."  Starscream made a face at his radio before he shut it off, then shot a long-suffering look at Dreadmoon.  "You can handle the transmission?"

          "I _have_ been a Sector Monitor for three million years."  Five million if you counted time in stasis.  Starscream nodded and left.  Dreadmoon turned back to his console.  The longer he knew Starscream, the stranger the Seeker got.  If you caught him in a good mood, he was enjoyable company.  The rest of the time, he was anything from overprotective to cold, and it was all impossible to predict.

* * *

          Stalker travelled the deep halls of Cybertron in her ground-vehicle mode.  Once Shockwave had returned from wherever assignment he and Megatron were on, she was no longer needed in the control tower.  It was just as well he didn't ask where she was going; Stalker was a lousy liar.

          The tracker reached an intersection and unfolded into her robot-mode.  The area had registered a slight power drain… done in pulses, like binary code.  It was obviously an invitation; one that Shockwave could have easily deciphered, which meant the one doing the summoning knew he was out.  That could mean he was either seen away from his post, or the control room was bugged.  She would have to check the tower when she got back.  Stalker said, "I'm here."

          A panel in the floor was pushed out from below, and a red-orange figure climbed out.  "What's going on, Stalker?"

          "Firestar.  Do the others know you're here?"

          "Are you kidding?"  Firestar was an Autobot.  She and Stalker had developed, not a friendship, but a mutual respect during a battle that forced the Decepticon strike-force and Elita-1's guerrillas to work together.  Either warrior would be in trouble if this meeting were known.  "I repeat; what's all the commotion topside?"

          "Cybertron is waking up."  It was obvious enough.  Saying it couldn't be seen as giving information to the enemy.

          The Autobot shook her head.  "That's what we thought.  What star are we around?"

          "That information is classified."

          "No matter; we'll figure it out ourselves soon enough."  Firestar sighed.  "Scrap.  I can't believe it – your side is winning."

          Stalker cocked her head slightly.  "Is that so terrible?"

          "Don't start reciting the Decepticon Cause at me again," said Firestar.  "It sounds all well and good when it's being explained to you, but when you actually _think_ about it…  Look, you guys just aren't nice."

          "The universe isn't nice."

          "Maybe because you never give it a chance."  The Autobot started pacing.  "Look, one of the Decepticon selling-points is the Unknown Menace From Space scenario, how you always need to be ready for it.  Let's say the Unknown Menace comes; you can fight it or you can try to deal peacefully with it.  It waits for you to make the first move and echoes whatever you do to it.  So you either get caught up in a long and costly war, or you can expand your empire through trade."

          The tracker nodded.  "Or, while you're talking to it, a battle fleet swoops in from subspace and decimates your planet."

          "Paranoiac monster."

          "Trusting fool."

          The lights flickered as a shadow dropped from the ceiling behind Firestar.  The ceiling was unaffected, but the dark shape came through it anyway.  It thrust out its hands, burying them intangibly in the Autobot's back, shorting her circuits.  Firestar collapsed.

          Then, like a picture suddenly coming into focus, the shadow took on form.  Razorshift sneered: "Interesting choice of friends, Stalker."

          Stalker pulled herself to full height, and she still only reached the black Seeker's shoulder.  "Doesn't 'infiltration' mean anything to you?  You want me to just walk up and say, 'Hi, I've given up on the Decepticons, how about letting me in?'"

          "Does Shockwave know about this?"

          "Just having _you_ know about it has probably blown my cover!" Stalker challenged.  "My prey are clever, and much more subtly cunning than _you_."

          Razorshift didn't step back.  "At least we have a prisoner to show for it."

          "Don't even try it," snarled the tracker.  "I'll have enough trouble salvaging my infiltration plan as it is.  And don't think you can just interrogate these ones; you might think yourself a warrior, out in the sky, on the winning side, but these have been playing hit-and-run for millions of years under the most adverse conditions.  They won't break.  And even if one does, the others will have vanished before you can follow up on the information."

          "Listen, rookie…"

          Stalker jabbed a finger at his chest.  "You listen, hotshot – you go to where your 'real' fights are, with flashy weapons and battlefield honour.  Leave _me_ to the tunnels where the only code is survival and the only weapon is cunning, because you can't handle it.  This is _my_ function, _my_ territory, so go back to your ornamental existence and _out of my way!_"

          The black Seeker frowned.  "I don't trust you, tracker."

          "Good.  It'll score me more points with the Autobots."  She crouched by the orange robot.  "Spray a few shots around.  I'll do the same.  When she comes to, I'll say I chased you off.  That should get me back in their good books."

          "Maybe I should shoot you to make it more realistic?"

          "You'd like that, wouldn't you?  Just the walls, Razorshift."  Razorshift scowled, but did as she asked.  Stalker fired off a few shots of her own after he'd left.

          It took several minutes for Firestar's automatic repair systems to sort out her circuits.  "What happened?"

          "One of the Seekers followed me.  I managed to convince him I was attempting to infiltrate your crew."

          Firestar nodded, not out of agreement.  She and Stalker had an interesting relationship; they were on constant truce, polite, but not trusting one another a bit.  She couldn't trust anything the Decepticon said, and Stalker had the same reservations.  There was evidence of an exchange of fire, which meant Stalker either fought off her follower, or it was staged for whatever purpose.  That was the problem with Decepticons; with 'deception' built into the name, you could never be sure of them.

          The two said their good-byes and went their separate ways.  The problem, Stalker decided, was that it was hard to dedicate yourself to the destruction of people you respected and, in other circumstances, would have liked.  She was fairly certain that Firestar felt the same way.  Razorshift might raise cry, but hopefully she had convinced him of her motives.

          Stalker was a lousy liar.  Unfortunately, she wasn't herself sure if she _told_ any…

* * *

          "Where _is_ that idiot?  If he's late, so help me, I'll…"

          "And keep my public waiting?  I'm hurt."

          Megatron looked up.  Starscream was perched on the back of the throne like a hawk.  A really big, annoying hawk.  "Get down from there."

          The Seeker obligingly hopped down.  "I don't see why you're so worried that _I'll_ be late.  I don't see Soundwave ar… oh, there he is.  The usual, then?  Stand two paces behind you, one left, and look noble?"

          "If you can possibly fake it."

          Starscream made a face, but smoothed his features as he stepped into position.  Show was important.  Cybertron had just woken up, was disorganised and confused, so the leaders had to be ordered and united.  The fact that they weren't wasn't important, they just had to look it, at least while the planet was watching.  Just give the appearance of stability, and the world will stabilize around you.

          Soundwave stood opposite of Starscream, and the Seeker caught a flash behind the impassive face.  It could have been anything from the pleasure of a job well done, a simple nod of acknowledgement, or even the thought of, 'I should be standing in your place, but you're in my way.'  The look passed too quickly for Starscream to read it.

          Megatron flexed his hands once, then let his arms drop to his sides.  "Let's get these formalities over with.  There's work to be done."

          **_The End._**


End file.
